There Are No Limits
by Giacinta2
Summary: Tag to ep 12.18. The carving of their initials. Just a childish urge, or does it mean something more to Sam and Dean? Brotherly love. Brother feels. Gen. One-shot.


Dean didn't know why he'd taken the knife in hand and touched its tip to the table; maybe it was the residue of the child in him, the need to leave even such minimum evidence of his his presence in this place.

As he began to trace the letter D, he remembered how Sam had once said he didn't see the bunker as home.  
Dean hadn't understood then, filled with awed anticipation at having this entire building for themselves alone. But that was back when only he and his brother knew about the once super-secret bunker, now open and vulnerable to just about anyone who wanted to walk in.  
When Dean had seen Mick sitting at this very table waiting for them, he'd finally realised the bunker could no longer be seen as their home.

Sam had been right, it was a work-place, just like an office where anyone could saunter in and out. And that made it no longer safe.

:

He finished carving the W, then looked up to meet Sam's amused stare.  
Dean held out the knife and after a hesitant moment the younger man took it, the amusement morphing into a glazed emotion.

Sam was aware he and Dean were different in many ways.  
His big brother was the punch-throwing, gun-toting, damsel in distress saving, kinda guy. Sam was the meticulous, studious, research geek; or maybe that's just how two little boys, growing up in a life of hardship and terror had come to divide the burdens.  
His big brother was a genius, Sam had told him so, and inversely, he knew as far as hunting was concerned, he was just as capable as Dean.

:

He could feel Dean's eyes on him as he carved into the wood, and Sam got the feeling he was performing an important ritual.  
Maybe he was, maybe those initials were simply another of the Winchester metaphors for 'I love you', the three words which accompanied them in their every thought or action.

And they did love each other, demonstrated over and over by life, by death and by rebirth. Love was the Pole star that guided their existance.

:

Honestly, Sam didn't care if they were remembered or not.  
Yes he wanted to save lives, wanted to fight for good, conquer evil, but at the end of it all, the only one he truly cared about was Dean, and it was comforting to know whatever happened, even after death they be together.

With a final cut, Sam completed the W and locked eyes with his sibling.  
A flush came to his cheeks at the naked love reflected in his big brother's gaze. He'd never been able to understand why Dean held him in such high esteem, the demon-blood fuck-up that Sam considered himself to be, but he didn't doubt the veracity and intensity of that love, proven so many times, and concentrated on him alone.

:

He wondered what Dean saw in his eyes.  
Did his hazel ones express the same unbounded love for his big brother that Dean's green ones did for him?  
At the sight of the pink tint beginning to colour Dean's cheeks, he realized they must have.

:

Sam was tempted then, tempted to finally address those three little words, to manifest them, draw them into the physical world, but once again, he held back.  
'Not yet,' his inner voice whispered. "Nearly, but not yet.'

:

"Remember, Sammy?" Dean went on to say, defusing the awkward silence. "In the Impala, when we carved our initials?"

He smiled, lost in the memory. "Fuck! Dad was so pissed! Of course I got the blame. Big brother leading little brother astray."

Sam ducked his head. "Yeah. Though thinking back, I suspect it was because you let me play with a knife. Dad must have been scared shitless I'd hack off my fingers or something."

"Good times." Dean nodded.  
And despite everything, they had been.  
Probably he was remembering through rose-tinted glasses, the happier moments coming to the fore, the bad ones pushed back, but Dean knew what had made his childhood bearable, it had been Sammy, his baby brother.

A shiver went through him at the thought of how it might have been had it just been John and him.  
Dean doubted he'd still be alive.  
With no Sam to protect and fight for, his life would have been so empty.

:

"You happy now? " Sam asked with a smile, tilting his head at the pair of initials, side by side on the dark wooden tabletop.  
"You laughing at me Sammy?"

"No. Just didn't think you were so sentimental. Where's my 'no chick-flicks' big brother now?"

"For all your geeking,Sasquatch, don't you know it's the exception that proves the rule!"

:

The moment was fraught with emotion, both men aware of what each meant to the other, and of what each was willing to do to keep the other safe.  
Unfortunately for the universe, there were no limits.

:

The end


End file.
